


Scholarly Pursuits

by FullSizeRender



Series: Stardew Valley One-Shots [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Lonely Wizard makes a friend, POV First Person, Slice of Life, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullSizeRender/pseuds/FullSizeRender
Summary: Another request, this time a shorter piece centered around the Wizard





	Scholarly Pursuits

From atop my tower, I have watched empires rise and fall. I have amassed a vast library of scrolls and journals from all ages in the pursuit of knowledge, and spent countless gold pieces to do so. I have seen the ebb and flow of nature take its course, weaving its vines around me in the spring and draping me in a blanket of white in the winter. My life had been mostly spent in my tower, chipping away at the secrets of the world in self-imposed isolation.

But I had yet to discover a piece of text that discussed how to cope with loneliness.

From atop my tower, centuries ago, I spotted a woman more beautiful than a piece of Junimo poetry. With short hair as black as obsidian, a matching dress and a basket of fungi tucked under her shoulder, I was smitten. I don’t normally look out of my window, but certainly did not regret the decision to take a brief break from my studies. She called herself a witch, and seemed eager to share her potion-distilling secrets. She was an herbalist much in the way that I was a scholar, and took up residence in the swamps to the northeast. I could see it when she pointed it out to me, but I had no intention of going there. There was–is–so much work to do. She was kind and understanding, making a point to stop by nearly every day to deliver purple mushrooms and super cucumbers. She wanted nothing more than to spend time with me and learn from my vast pool of knowledge, and I allowed her into my inner sanctum.

But I was better off alone. Or at the very least, away from that…witch.

From atop my tower, I saw myself pull away from my years and years of fruitful research in the name of what the witch called “love”. I hadn’t experienced it before, but the veritable deluge of human contact all at once stirred up unquantifiable feelings in my soul. My tomes and beakers gathered dust as I spent seasons in her swamp, catching fish and bugs while we discussed topics that were far less scholarly than I would have liked. I no longer recall her name, but she was delighted to learn mine. “Rasmodius,” she would often start her sentences, repeating it to me as though I were hearing it for the first time. It rolled off of her tongue like a gentle breeze in spring. We took part in the groundbreaking of a budding town between our two homes, assisting the magicless humans in creating their quaint little hamlet. We even held a wedding ceremony in the center of town to make our long-standing relationship official. I was…I was happy, or something close to it. The void I had once filled with my studies was now occupied by this bewitching woman.

But I grew lazy, and my years of cherished work practically went up in smoke.

From atop my tower, I watched Pelican Town flourish. Slowly but surely, humans moved into the little community and took up the project the witch and I had started. But as they grew up, we grew apart. Once the town was able to function independently we resumed our studies, and I took note of the witch’s startling new obsession with the void. Or perhaps it was not new, but ‘love’ had blinded me to her desires. The void is chaos given form, and as interesting as it could be, my years of experience had yet to yield anything that could be considered useful. Where I sought benefits, she sought power; all in the name of “aiding my research”. She said she wanted this to be an aspect of my projects we worked on together, but her passion instilled immense fear in me rather than excitement. Erecting arcane shrines and conduits for the sinister substance in her hut, she pushed her body to its limits with the hopes of harnessing it for herself. She didn’t even bother to record her findings, her reckless tests having obvious but undetermined results on both her body and mind. I hoped to stop her with reason and facts, but seasons I had spent away from my works kept me from enervating her rapid progress.

Had I been a man of stronger convictions, or stayed a studious scholar, I might have been able to save her.

From atop my tower, I watched my wife fly away on an ensorcelled broomstick, taking with her my heart—and our child. It was not an easy decision to make; I had committed my life and love to a sweet herbalist that had transformed into a green-skinned occultist, and I was powerless to stop her. I don’t know what I would have done if she had stayed, but I also didn’t know what to do about her once she left. To return purely to the study of the Junimos that pranced throughout the forest felt wrong; I felt a personal responsibility to my wife for her condition. I concluded my study of the Junimo language and began a new chapter in my life, in which I became focused on the effects of the void on living beings. But I could not do it alone. I would not stoop so low as to use another human to experiment on, but without my wife delivering materials I found that research moved at a snail’s pace on a good day. So on a warm summer night, I transcribed my need for void essence and posted it to Pelican Town’s billboard with the hopes that a kindred soul might deliver them to me in exchange for a handsome sum of gold.

I should have known that asking someone to venture into the cavernous mines on my behalf would be a fool’s errand.

From atop my tower, I watched that billboard with feverish hunger. Spring, summer, winter, fall – they all came and went in damn near endless cycles. I stopped into town on special occasions to eavesdrop on conversations, desperately hoping that I would hear someone speaking of my request, but to no avail. My cure development ground to a halt, and as my hope ran dry I became more acquainted with my bed than my notes. I no longer saw the seasons pass; each one felt the same beneath the cottony layers that protected me from my failure. All the time I spent learning amounted to nothing when I could not use my research for the greater good. I stopped shaving, my tower fell into disrepair and my work collected dust once more. I could hardly bring myself to visit town anymore, the haunting memories of my ex-wife holding my head and heart in a truly painful vice.

I lost track of how many seasons passed before she knocked on my door.

From atop my tower, I watched a woman approach my dilapidated living quarters with purpose. She asked for me by name, saying it with concern rather than captivation. It had been many seasons since someone repeated my name back to me, and it felt as fresh as it did the first time I heard it from my ex-wife. Her face was obscured by hair pink enough to be confused with a baby Junimo’s skin, and it was clear that she was trembling. She was hesitant to make eye contact, but she held out a glass mason jar full of swirling black ooze for me to take. Her hands and arms were covered in scratches, and as I tenderly plucked the container from her hands I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it would fuel my research long enough for me to figure out a way to keep this from happening again. I asked for her name and how much she wanted in exchange for the material, but refused. She called herself Ivy, and felt obligated to help because of how long my request had been sitting on the board untouched. She told me she didn’t want money, but I couldn’t let her leave after what she went through to fulfill my order. I paid her five times the amount I posted, and thanked her profusely for reigniting my passions. While I could not bring myself to answer why when I asked, in a way I believed that Ivy understood the importance of the void essence. She took her leave after realizing that denying her reward would be pointless, but made certain to tell me that if I ever needed anything else, I shouldn’t hesitate to let her know.

Never before in my lifetime had I met a sweeter soul, and I doubt I would again.

From atop my tower, I excitedly awaited the days in which Ivy would return with reagents and herbs. She became somewhat of a pupil, watching closely and carefully as she did her best to understand the complex arcane sciences at hand. She became my inspiration, pushing me to try and encouraging me when I failed. Even if I couldn’t tell her exactly why my experiments were so important, she was as invested as I was. I had a mistake to fix, and no matter how long it took I would see it through to the end. Even if the witch no longer loved me, it became my goal to set her free from her void-induced prison. And Ivy pledged to be there every step of the way.

I’ve seen empires rise and fall, I’ve concocted brews and potions stronger than anyone’s wildest dreams, and peered into the very depths of the world’s most obscure magical secrets. But on that day, I gained something I could have never produced on my own: a friend.


End file.
